


Hey Youngblood

by daemoninwhite



Series: The Way You Make Me Want to Live Instead of Die [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alpha Dick Grayson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Biting, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Jason Todd, intersex omega
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2020-10-11 05:56:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20541218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daemoninwhite/pseuds/daemoninwhite
Summary: A fledgling flies the nest. Dick's never learnt how to deal with a younger sibling.





	1. Baby, I Got Me, Only Friend I Need

**Author's Note:**

> It's been some time!
> 
> If you read this on a site other than AO3 or Tumblr, it's been stolen! Friendly reminder that if you want offline reading, you can download right from AO3 itself.

When Dick hears the knock on his front door, he only glances at the security display out of habit. He sighs – he’s been waiting for this day to come, though he had hoped that it would take longer to show up. He uses the distance between his office and the entrance to swallow his reflexive annoyance at Bruce (and the reflexive flare of arousal at the memory of what happened last time they were together) and paste on what he hopes is an appropriately sympathetic expression. 

He opens the door and leans casually against the doorframe, “Bruce being an asshole?”

Jason sniffs and hauls the strap of his duffle bag back properly onto his shoulder. “Your security sucks.”

Christ, this kid. Dick calls on every bit of self-control he has, and just manages to not roll his eyes. “Don’t need it to do more than give me a warning.”

“Yeah, well.” Jason fiddles with the strap again. “Still sucks,” he mutters to his feet.

Dick snorts and shifts, gets more comfortable. 

Jason grinds the toe of his sneaker against Dick’s doormat, and then, slowly, like every word of being dragged out of him, “You said I could come stay whenever.”

“Yeah, I did.” He ruffles Jason’s curls, deliberately doesn’t think about burying his face in them as they cuddled in the back of the Batmobile. Jason bats his hand away, but he doesn’t flinch, which is pretty significant progress (repress the orgasms, repress, repress, repress). “Come on, kid. We can get Chinese and swap war stories.”

Jason curls in on himself a little. “You’re gonna go on patrol.”

Fuck Bruce for teaching Jay how to spot body armour – even the thin, lightyears ahead of the competition, Bat-style body armour – under civvies. Dick smiles and deliberately lets his body language go loose and easy, slides out of the beginnings on Nightwing’s mindset and into Dick Grayson’s, supportive older brother and packmate.

(And alpha.)

“Nah kiddo, it’s fine. After all, you’ve never come to see me before! Like hell I’m going to cut this short.”

Jason sniffs again. “Well. So long as you get some pork buns.”

“Who do you take me for?” Dick laughs and backs into his apartment. Jason still brushes against him when he passes, and he’s so warm. Dick’s drawn irresistibly after him.

\--

The Chinese comes quickly enough that he barely has enough time to change out of his armour and into more comfy clothes – Dick has a reputation for tipping excellently. He considers it basic human decency, and yeah, spending most of his life with a literal billionaire has kind of skewed his sense of what’s appropriate money wise, but no one should tear up when he hands them a $50 tip on a $150 order (he had Wally over! It was an appropriate amount of food for one person and a speedster to consume!) and so now he feels no shame about whipping out the card connected to the bank account Bruce set up for him when it comes to paying for tips. In the end, Dick gets any delivery quick, and he also gets to force Bruce to participate in trickledown economics. Everyone wins, and it gets Dick out of Jason’s orbit.

Fuck. He’d thought that the kid had smelt good before, when he wasn’t fully presented. 

(When he was tied up and squirming - _fuck_. Repress repress repress.)

Now, now that Jason’s fully presented (an adult, available) he smells…. Like nothing Dick’s ever smelt before. He wants to follow the scent back to its source, bury his face in Jason’s neck and lick and let the smell fill up his lungs until he can tease out every distinct aroma that makes up ‘Jason’. 

Not now, he tells his inappropriately interested dick. There’s no way Jason is here for a friendly visit, not when he knows that Dick was gonna come over this weekend to celebrate Jason’s heat and ascension to adulthood, not when he looks so upset.

“So,” he leads, as he sets the Chinese in front of Jason, making sure that the paper bag full of pork buns is right in front of him. “Bruce is being an asshole.”

Jason grabs the container of special fried rice, but he doesn’t open it, just rolls it around in his hands.

Dick’s stomach ties itself into knots. Jason never, _never_ passes up food. “That bad?” He asks, voice soft.

Jason ducks his head and shrugs, a rough jerk of his shoulders. “You know him,” he says, voice thick.

“Yeah, I do.” Dick scoots close enough that he can put a hand on Jason’s shoulder, give him what he hopes is a comforting squeeze. “I know him. You don’t have to sugar coat it. I’m not going to try and defend him. I know what he’s like.”

Jason jumps to his feet and paces. He clenches the container hard enough that rice starts to spill out, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “You’re an alpha! You have no idea what it’s like!”

Dick desperately wants to wrap Jason up in the tightest hug he can manage. “So, tell me.”

Jason looks at him and Dick’s heart breaks. Jason blinks and tears cascade down his face.

“It’s not my fault.”

“Oh Jay.” He wants so badly to pull Jason close, to tuck him against Dick’s side and keep him safe from everyone, including their nominal alpha. 

“I didn’t ask to be an omega!” He turns away and whispers, “I didn’t _want_ to be an omega.”

“Jay.”

“He’s taking e-everything from me. Ju-just beca-because.” His face crumples and he starts to properly cry.

Dick can’t hold himself back any longer. He reaches out and pulls Jay into his lap, curls up around him as best he can. He’s not sure what to say, what Jay needs to hear at this moment, and so simply rubs circles onto Jason’s back and holds him close with the other, tucks Jason’s head into the crook of Dick’s neck where he’ll hopefully take comfort in Dick’s scent.

He purrs, a low rumble designed to comfort, and deliberately doesn’t think about the last time Bruce did this for him.

(It’s been. God. Seven, eight years?)

He just holds Jay close and lets him cry himself out. Does his best to project safe through his actions and scent and doesn’t let the slightest hint of how pissed he is with Bruce leak into either.

Eventually – Dick couldn’t say how long it takes – Jason calms. He takes one final, shuddering breath and scrubs his hands across his eyes. He doesn’t break their embrace, which is perfect for Dick because every instinct he has is screaming ‘COMFORT PACKMATE’. 

He saves Jay the embarrassment of being the first to speak. “Needed that, hey?” When Jason just nods, he reaches over for the pork buns. “Want one?”

Jason takes one. He looks at Dick and shoves the bun into Dick’s mouth.

“Hey!” Dick cries. Or, tries to. It’s muffled.

Jason snort-laughs and grabs another bun. “Thanks,” he mutters, after he’s taken a bite.

Dick swallows. “Any time, little wing.”

“Little wing? Really?”

Dick can’t resist rubbing his cheek in Jason’s curls. “My little wing,” he coos.

“Oh my god, shut up. I take it back, you’re the worst.” Jason pushes against him, Dick jokingly resists, and Jason scrambles out of his lap to sit next to him. Dick instantly misses his body heat – he feels irrationally cold.

“So, you like my buns?” Dick jokes to <strike>cover how much he wants to pull Jason back onto his lap</strike> lighten the atmosphere. 

Jason doesn’t react like Dick had expected – a groan and maybe shoving Dick further away. Instead he shoots Dick an unexpectedly coquettish look from under his eyelashes. “Everyone always says that your buns are the best,” he says, unexpectedly breathy.

Dick nearly swallows his tongue. Instead he laughs awkwardly. “Aww, is that-”

Jason climbs back onto his lap. He doesn’t look upset anymore. He looks determined, and there’s the ghost of a smile lurking in the corner of his lips.

(Don’t look at his mouth, don’t look at his mouth, don’t look at his mouth.)

“Everyone knows that Nightwing has the plushest ass. You got any idea how many of my classmates’d like to tap that?”

(Fuck.)

“Yeah!” Dick laughs again. He doesn’t know where to put his hands. “It can get, you know, a little-”

“You’re an alpha.” Jason tangles his fingers into the shirt Dick’s wearing. “You’re an alpha and you get those sorts of comments.”

“Yeah.” Dick hesitantly puts his hands on Jason’s back, ready to pull them away at the slightest hint of discomfort. “It’s crude and it sucks.”

“Anyone ever. When.” Jason clears his throat. “When you were Robin, anyone ever act?” He trails off meaningly.

Dick’s hands clench. “No. It was close, a couple of times, but I’ve had worse on the Metro at rush hour.” The pathetic attempt at a half-joke falls flat. “Have you?”

“Yeah.” Jason looks away. “It was. Bad. But B got there before anything real bad happened.”

“Christ,” Dick swears. He wants to drag Jason so close that they’ll never be parted, smother Jason in Dick’s scent until everyone knows that Jason is Dick’s and that any injury will be paid back a hundred-fold.

And then he remembers being tied down, and Robin tied down above him, and what happened, and his stomach turns to ice.

He doesn’t want to know.

He needs to know.

“Jay. When – on the house, with Slade, when we. Was that?” He lets go, leans back, gives Jason as much space as he can without shoving him off Dick’s lap.

“What? No!” The answer is so instantaneous, so without pretence – shocked, that Dick would even put the two experiences together – that it puts Dick’s fears to rest. “It was.”

Dick tucks a curl behind Jason’s ears. He has such cute ears. How can someone have cute ears? They’re red – Jason must be blushing. “Yeah?”

“It was nice. Good. I,” he clears his throat. “I don’t regret it. Do you?”

“What?” Dick tips Jason’s chin up so that they can look each other in the eye. “No.” He smiles, “it was very good. _You_ were very good.”

The grin that blooms across Jason’s face is painfully adorable. He is blushing, some of his fainter freckles disappear. The room stinks of delighted omega. “Wanna do it again?”

“Huh?” Dick says stupidly, too busy tracking the blush, drunk on the scent.

“Wanna do it properly?”

“Jay-”

“Wanna have sex?”

It’s the logical next question, but Dick still feels like he’s been sucker punched. “What?”

“Want to have sex? I do.”

Dick closes his eyes and all the pieces fall into place. He cups Jason’s face, draws him close until they can press their foreheads together.

As he expected. Jason’s hot beneath his palms. Too hot, for a mere blush. They don’t have long to hash this out.

“Jason,” his whispers helplessly. He wants this. Gods above, does he want this. He’s having wet dreams like he’s a teenager again, memories of that night Slade tied them down mixing with fantasies. “Jay, baby, it’s a stress-heat from leaving Bruce, your body wants an alpha, it’s OK, you’re fine, I can-”

Jason bites him.

Dick shuts up.

“No. I want this, OK? My choice. I want to have sex with you. It was nice, when we did it before. And I like you.”

Christ, he smells so good.

“Jason,” Dick breathes.

Jason gives a little lick to the bite. “I want this. It’s OK. Please, Dick.”

Dick crumbles. “Of course,” he murmurs.

He kisses Jason.


	2. Shut Your Mouth and Run Me like a River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Jason deal with Jason’s stress-heat. And then comes something that comes to every Jason Todds across every universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _How do you fall in love?  
Harder than a bullet could hit you  
How do we fall apart?  
Faster than a hairpin trigger_

Dick draws Jason into a tight hug. His mind races around a track, speeding between the same points over and over. Every instinct he has screams protect-safe-warm-pack, but he has no idea how to make Jason feel that way. What alpha instincts demand when exposed to an omega’s heat, and what an omega actually needs when thrown into a stress-heat are two very different things. Dick-the-person, Dick-who-isn’t-a-collection-of-barely-evolved-instincts-in-a-meat-suit wants to wrap Jay into a blanket burrito and tuck him away in Dick’s den, keep him safe from non-pack, and warm, and curl up together to wait until their shared alpha arrives and these two can actually talk it out. Dick-the-alpha, Dick-who-_is_-a-collection-of-barely-evolved-instincts-in-a-meat-suit wants to roll this omega who smells so deliciously of new-blooming fertility and of fraying-bond-but-pack underneath him until everyone within a mile will smell that he has been thoroughly and delightfully claimed. 

It’s practically his duty as an alpha packmate, that part of him claims, to attend to an omega packmate’s heat. It would be understandable. Acceptable. Expected. Bruce and Jay might even thank him, when Jay’s heat has been satiated.

He … he doesn’t know if that would be the right thing to do. He _wants_ too badly for it to be the right thing to do, for him to just go along with it. The part of him that’s hot-blooded, the part of him that’s a breath away from going feral, the part of him that’s always chafed under Bruce’s yoke, the part of him that’s always wanted to purr whenever one of his meta teammates bow their heads to his leadership, that part wants so very, very much to roll the heating omega onto his belly and breed him good.

Wants to mate him proper and fill his belly with Dick’s pups.

Even though he can smell Bruce’s claim.

Even though he knows it would be poaching.

(Even though he knows it could force his pack to fracture beyond repair. <strike>Bruce doesn’t _deserve_ either of them</strike>.)

He _knows_ that a stress-heat isn’t a real heat—Jay probably isn’t even actually fertile. It’s his body’s desperate attempt to lure his alphas back in, to mend the pack. It’s a biological reaction to a perceived—or real, it could be real, fuck, Bruce, what the hell have you done?—rejection by his alpha.

He presses his forehead to Jason’s (he’s already so _hot_) and envisions pulling all his instincts and confusion and frustration together in a ball and exhaling them in one long sigh. 

He’s not important right now, Jay is.

He presses his thumbs to the swelling scent glands underneath Jason’s chin, tests how firm they are, and uses his grip to tip Jason’s head back to see if he still appears cognisant or not.

It’s. Not good.

Not bad, not yet, from the feel of the glands, Jay’s not quite under the influence yet, but the heat’s setting in fast. Unless Bruce stalked Jason here—always a possibility with the goddamned Batman, but he probably would’ve interrupted by now if he had—Bruce won’t arrive in time to deal with Jay’s heat before it starts to get really painful for him.

‘Heating’ omega definitely isn’t a misnomer. Jay’s glands are fever-hot, too-hot, and the heat spreads out to the rest of him—Jay’s cheeks and ears blush an inviting and adorable pink, his eyes are bright and he’s starting to pant in an instinctive attempt to cool his body down.

Thousands of years of evolution scream to Dick that he’s got a willing, fertile omega in his hands.

He’s just got to keep reminding himself that Jay doesn’t belong to him.

Or Bruce, for that matter. Jay’s his own person.

(_He came to you, he chose you!_)

**No.** Dick’s never been that type of person. He’ll lock himself away before he becomes that type of person. He’s never going to sink to _Deathstroke’s_ level and use someone’s biology against them.

Especially a packmate.

He scoots back along the couch and ignores the soft, wanting sound that slips from Jason when Dick lets him go.

“How do you want to do this?” He asks, centring himself. He _will_ do whatever Jason asks him to, even if it means leaving him alone. A stress-heat spent alone would be painful and Jay’s instincts might take it as further rejection even as his rational mind knows it’s what he asked for, but it would definitely be survivable.

Jay shuffles around until he’s kneeling on a couch cushion, his entire body attuned to Dick’s. “You,” he says—states, sure and clear. “Share my heat, Dick?”

Dick can’t stop the smile from spreading across his face, wouldn’t even if he could. He takes Jason’s hand and kisses the knuckles. It’s an old-fashioned gesture but Dick knows what kind of literature Jay reads, he’s both a romantic and a Romantic, and sure enough, Jay blushes even deeper and he gives a shy little smile.

“It would be a privilege,” Dick answers honestly.

Jason rolls his eyes; he can act as sassy as he wants but that blush is far too luminous to be hidden. “God, you’re an idiot,” he says and tugs Dick over until they can kiss.

Jay’s so warm, and soft, and he smells so _good_. His kisses are clumsy and Dick can’t find it anything other than charming. 

“So good, little wing,” Dick coos as they part. Jay doesn’t protest the nickname like he always does, and that’s a better indication than anything else of just how far gone he is.

Instead Jay slides his hands down Dick’s front and then back up underneath Dick’s tank top. Jason’s got tiny hands but they’re wonderfully calloused, and the slightly scratch as they glide over his skin, pulling his top up, wakes up all the nerves and makes them prickle with growing arousal.

“It’s unfair, how cut you are,” Jason grumbles, eyes fixed on the growing slice of exposed skin.

Dick laughs and returns the favour by running his hands over the breadth of Jason’s shoulders. “Twenty odd years of nigh-constant training pays off.”

Jason makes a little, irritated noise and bites him.

Dick shudders and grunts. “Good boy,” he praises and runs his hands down to cup Jason’s cute little ass. Neither of them has a lot of body fat, but Jason’s an omega and so most of his has settled around his lower half, padding out his hips, thighs and ass. He feels so fucking _good_ under Dick’s hands. 

He doesn’t protest when Dick squeezes, when he uses his grip to haul Jason bodily into his lap, or when he doesn’t let go.

Jason just bites Dick again, right where he’d have a scent gland if he were an omega. The heat that rushes through Dick’s veins at the gesture is half arousal, half delight at the play-claim.

He gives a serious thought to having round one on the couch, but he really, really, **really** wants to get his knot into that slick pussy, and he’s not going to do that here. “Come on, baby,” he says, and adjusts his grip so that he can slip one arm underneath Jason’s thighs (the other he keeps on Jason’s butt, because, _damn_). He pulls Jason close to him and stands up, smooth but slow enough that they don’t so much as wobble.

Jason squeaks, giggles, and nips Dick’s neck again.

The walk to the bedroom both does and doesn’t take forever. Dick takes a split second to be thankful that he’s done laundry recently and tips himself back onto the bed.

They bounce as they hit the mattress, and Jason’s not an insignificant weight, but he looks so fucking pretty on top of Dick that he’s more than willing to put up with a bit of air being knocked out of him.

(_This_ time will be perfect.)

“Show off,” Jason mutters even as he shifts and settles back into the cradle of Dick’s hips.

Dick grins. You make me wanna show off, he doesn’t say, but there’s a more than decent chance that they’re both thinking it.

Jason bends down and kisses him, slow and filthy. He’s so _good_, his little wing, a perfect, warm weight on his lap and in his arms. Dick could make out with him for hours, for no other end than the pleasure of this, closeness breeding a lazy heat, like basking in a sunbeam. 

They break apart and he kisses across Jason’s face, near-mindlessly dragging his lips across that so soft skin. “Such a pretty boy,” he murmurs, breathes, his lips brush against Jason’s cheek with every syllable. 

Jason _giggles_. It’s _adorable_. “Should’ve known you’d be one of these?”

“One of what?” He wants to call Jason baby, wants to call him sweetheart, but they’re not close enough that he thinks Jay would take that as anything other than an insult. “Firecracker,” he murmurs.

Jason bites Dick’s jaw, a gentle puppy-bite, and Dick reflexively rumbles deep in his chest. Jason shifts his weight, slides his arms in-between them so that his hands rest on Dick’s chest, and continues his path down to Dick’s scent glands. Dick growls the whole way, not an angry growl, just an instinctual noise, alpha recognising omega. Jason’s hands move, and Dick’s growl goes deeper and he wraps his arms around Jason when he realises that Jay’s trying to find where he can feel the sound best.

They settle like that, Jason’s head tucked into Dick’s neck, hands on chest, arms around body, connected and connecting. 

Dick knows, _knows_, bone-deep, that he could never not call Jason pack after this. Even if they don’t have sex—which they will, it’s inevitable now, even in this bubble of peace he can feel it, smell it coming—they’ll still have bonded. They’ll be pack.

He runs a hand up and down Jason’s spine, luxuriating in the closeness of a packmate. Bruce and Alfred both aren’t the type of touch too much, the Titans are but they’re not the right pack, not the pack that Dick craves this kind of contact with. Dick _needs_ touch the way plants need water, and he doesn’t resent Bruce and Alfred for not showing their love in the way he understands best, but until now he never realised how unsure it made him feel.

Jason sighs, his breath blows hot-wet across Dick’s neck and makes Dick shiver. And then Jay shifts just that little bit more and he drags his tongue across the gland and Dick _moans_, sensation like a lightning bolt to his cock.

“Little wing,” he groans and pulls Jason closer.

“Yeah big bird?” Jason asks playfully, tone faux-innocent even as he mouths along Dick’s neck and shoulder.

_Fuck_ they should talk about this more. Dick’s the alpha, Dick’s not the one starting a stress-heat, he’s the one in charge, he should, he should.

Jason sinks his sharp little devil teeth into the meat of Dick’s shoulder.

“Fuck!”

Jason giggles again. “Thought that’d wake you up.”

Dick plants his feet and rolls his hips up against Jason’s pretty little ass, entirely unashamed of the fact that he’s already half-hard. “That feel woken up enough to you?”

“Not nearly woken up enough for my tastes,” Jason purrs, parries, and sits that ass down and _grinds_ against Dick’s cock.

“You’re evil!” Dick gasps out.

Jason runs his tongue across his teeth. It shouldn’t feel like a taunt, like a dare, but it _does_ and any idea of being the one in control goes out the window and Dick grabs him and hauls him down into a kiss that demonstrates just how hard he’s going to fuck Jason.

When they break apart, Jason’s flushed and panting and Dick allows his smile to turn as wicked as it wants to. He opens his mouth and immediately looses his train of thought, as Jason takes that opportunity to pull off his top.

He’s got just the _cutest_ set of tits.

Dick needs to get his mouth on them.

Jay isn’t quite tall enough to sit his ass on Dick’s cock and have his tits in Dick’s face, so Dick pushes himself up the bed until he’s propped against the headboard. If he gets a few solid gropes in to that teasing ass as he’s doing it, who could blame him? 

Dick knows that Jason’s been benched for a little while, he needs to get used to his suddenly-powerful instincts, and even if he hadn’t been told he’d know by Jason’s body. He’s still fit, still muscular, but there’s a delightful layer of fat over his hips, thighs and ass, and his tits are fantastic. 

_Fuck_, those tits. Perfect, precious little handfuls, topped with inviting pink nipples like, like, like, fuck, like a cherry on top of a pile of whipped cream, Dick can’t _think_, he needs to get his mouth on those. He slides his hands up Jason’s back—and fuck, but that’s an experience in and of itself, scars and burns catch at the callouses on his fingers and it makes Jay shudder and arch so delightfully—hooks his fingers into the slight divots of Jason’s shoulder blades and hauls him up, hauls him close, presses his mouth to the top of Jay’s right tit and then sucks as much of it into his mouth as he can.

Jason _moans_ and arches further, shoves his tits further into Dick’s face. Dick pulls away just slightly, drags his teeth lightly down until he can seal his mouth around Jason’s nipple. He sucks, bites, licks, anything to get Jason to move or make noise, keeps it up until Jason’s whimpering when he’s not panting for breath, and then drags his mouth, open and slick, over to the other breast.

Jason’s so fucking cute, so fucking sexy, Dick wants, Dick needs to get his mouth all over him, needs to taste every part of him, smother the faint scent of maybe-pack with one that delightedly, joyfully, unashamedly _screams_ that Jason is utterly adored and accepted. He wants, needs, must sooth the false-heat, Jason has to know how _wanted_ he is, there shouldn’t be a moment where he-

Jason grabs Dick’s hair and hauls him finally, fully away from his breasts. 

Jay looks … wild, wrecked. He’s bitten his lips red, already starting to bruise and swell. His blush has spread from his cheeks nearly down to his collarbone. His eyes are pools of black with the thinnest ring of blue, shiny with unshed tears.

He looks like Dick’s been edging him for _hours_.  
“Get. Fucking. Naked.” Jay hisses, punctuating each pause with a fucking _vicious_ tug on Dick’s hair.

Dick laughs, cracked and breathless. “Gonna have to get your ass off me for that.”

Jay bites his lip again, pulls back without letting go, it slides so fucking slow out from Jay’s teeth and Dick swears he can feel every single time a strand of muscle of flesh breaks. It should not make his cock _ache_ in his pants, fuck, Jay is right, they need to be naked. 

Jay sits back and together they pull off Dick’s shirt. Or rather, they start off taking it off together, and then Jay gets distracted running his hands all over Dick’s abs. It feels good, especially when he starts to use his fingernails as well, sharp little zings of sensation soothed by Jason’s soft, scarred fingertips (Christ is there any part of this boy that _isn’t_ scarred?) He gets lost following Dick’s treasure trail, plays with and tugs on the hair there enough that Dick’s hips start to jerk up to follow it. 

Fuck, he’s so fucking close to rolling Jay over, tearing the centre seam out of his pants and fucking him through it.

But, no, he needs Jay to be on top (needs to erase that time when Deathstroke made them, when they didn’t have a choice, with something they both choose).

“Pants off now,” Dick growls.

Jason rolls straight back, his legs popping up into the air as he pulls his pants and underwear off in one not-so smooth move.

Dick has to stifle a chuckle, an action that becomes magnitudes easier when Jay rolls back up onto his knees, undoes Dick’s fly, and curls that perfect, smooth/scarred hand down Dick’s cock.

“Oh _fuck_.”

Jason giggles drunkenly. He jerks Dick’s cock twice, loose, easy movements, and then he tightens his grips until it’s just on this side of hurting so bad it’s good, and give two mean jerks. His other hand, oh Jesus _fuck_, his other hand is buried between his own legs, past his gorgeous fucking cock, and the movements of his knuckles make it pretty fucking clear that he’s fingering himself. 

“Baby, oh, baby, let me do that, let me get my-”

“Dick, you put those fingers in me I’m going to come right away and I _need_ to come on your cock.”

“Fuck, _fuck_, yes, yes, fuck, where’s a fucking-”

“It’s OK,” Jay shuffles forward on his knees, puts his hands on Dick’s shoulders for balance and drags that—fuck, he’s so wet it’s _dripping_\--beautiful pussy over the head of Dick’s cock in the filthiest tease. “It’s OK, it’s OK, I’ve got a IUD, it’s fine.”

“Jay-”

Jay shoves his fingers into Dick’s mouth. The fingers he just pulled out of his pussy.

Dick swallows, sucks, drools around them—he tastes so _good_, the instant Dick comes he’s got to bury his face in that pussy and let Jay ride until he comes screaming.

Jay curses, pulls them out, tugs on Dick’s bruised lower lip and the pain just makes everything flare brighter.

“Yes, OK, yes, let me-”

Jay sinks down onto Dick’s cock, slow, steady bounces that takes in more and more of his cock until he’s nestled back on Dick’s lap, until Dick’s as deep inside of him as it’s physically possible for them to get.

Dick’s eyes just about roll back into his head. Heating omegas are so _hot_ inside, feels like his cock is going to melt off, but it’s worth every second for that gorgeous, slick pussy.

“Jason,” Dick groans. Prays.

“You’re-oh!” Jason is so sweetly breathless. “You’re bigger than I thought.”

Dick snorts and kisses Jason’s hair. He makes his way down Jason’s hairline, kisses his ear, under his eye, and finally, his beautiful, lush mouth. Every kiss makes Jason’s pussy clench down on him, makes Dick rock his hips up, but he’s trying so hard to be good, so when they finally part he breathes against Jason’s mouth, “Wanna ride me, or do you want me to do the work?”

The feel of Jason’s mouth curling into a smile against his is … Dick doesn’t have the words.

“I’m on top, right? Looks like you just get to lay there and look pretty.”

Dick gives Jason’s chin and playful, little nip. “And I’m so good at that.”

Jason gives a little test-bounce. “So I’ve—oh!—so I’ve heard,” he pants.

That he’s still attempting to sass back even though Dick is literally balls deep in his pussy is just the cutest thing.

Dick can’t stop smiling, can’t stop himself from kissing Jason on every part of him Dick can reach. “Yeah?”

“Oh! Yeah, I’ve _fuck_, I’ve, shit. You know what I mean.”

Dick’s thought process rapidly fragments—it’s taking more and more self-control to not slide his hands under Jason’s glorious thighs and take over some of the rhythm. But if he did that, he’d miss this stunning show, the slide of Jay’s muscles under his gorgeous skin, scars and burns and bruises and so many marks that Dick knows are echoed on his own, are proof that they belong together. He wraps a hand around Jason’s cock and keeps it still, lets Jason’s own bounces to fuck his cock into Dick’s fist.

“So mean,” Jason pants.

Dick allows his smile to go _filthy_. “No, being mean would be doing this.”

He leans forward and scraps his teeth over Jason’s scent gland, one light pass to tenderise it and then a heavier one, the flesh gathering and resisting and giving way. His mouth fills with the scent-taste of a pack omega in heat and Dick’s mouth waters.

“_Fuck!_” Jason’s head drops back onto his shoulders even as he rolls his body forward, shoves more of his neck into Dick’s teeth.

“That’s it—that’s it, baby, so good for me,” Dick murmurs as he bites, drags his teeth along Jason’s neck, sooths the sting with his tongue.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Dick slides a hand around Jason’s ass—grabs hold of one perfect cheek and gives it a squeeze, relishes in the muscle and fat—and presses a finger into his pussy from behind. The other he tightens around Jason’s cock, rubs his thumb against and across the head.

“Fuck, fuck, oh, Dick!”

Jason’s pussy clenches down, his cock gushes across Dick’s hand, and Dick comes as well, his knot expanding and pushes into those delicious clenches in a perfect fucking pressure that just about makes his eyes roll back into his skull.

He presses his forehead to Jason’s and they pant together, come down together, even as Jay’s pussy gives a few, fading spasms that makes their legs jerk.

Jason sighs and moves his head down to Dick’s neck, gives a couple of licks to the scent gland there. “You gonna get your hands off and out of me?” He asks.

Dick grins and brings both hands up to his mouth, keeps direct eye contact as he licks Jason’s come and slick from them. _Fuck_ he tastes good, the second round is _definitely_ going to involve him sucking or eating something until Jay cries.

Jason groans and smacks him until he pulls his fingers out of his mouth and defends himself. “Stop it, damn it. Your knot is already in me, don’t go getting me worked up again.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

They spend a couple of moments in silence. Jay doesn’t smell like heat anymore, he smells like pack, like. Like. Fuck. Dick closes his eyes, represses the urge to sigh, and drops a kiss to the crown of Jason’s head. “Stay here as long as you want.” He murmurs.

Jason makes a noncommittal sound. 

Dick hugs him close. “Seriously. I’m happy to have you here – I want you here.” Jason gives a little purr, and, emboldened, Dick continues, “You don’t have to go out as Robin as you want. Remember what I said, about Flamebird? You could be that, if you wanted.”

Jason lies motionless. His scent doesn’t give Dick any insight into what he thinks.

\--

He does stay. It’s been three weeks, or thereabouts. There was a flurry of rumours all over the internet and even some traditional media, people wondering where Robin had gone, why he had left, why he was flying at Nightwing’s side. Bruce has called Jason twice, and Dick seventeen times. Dick could swear that sometimes when they go out, he catches a glimpse of a blacker-than-darkness patch of shadows move in the wind. 

It’s good.

Dick’s missed having a partner. They both know how to fly beside Batman, and it only takes Jason about a week to shake the cobwebs off his moves (Dick still sticks them with the easier stuff. He’s still not quite back up to 100%, he’s been away for months after all and the body looses conditioning absurdly quickly) and for both of them to adjust to flying with each other, not Batman.

It’s just a normal Thursday night, they’re just about to leave and Dick’s phone goes off – an automated alert from the Batcomputer.

He checks his phone.

His heart drops into his gut.

Joker’s in Bludhaven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. We should focus on what we've learnt. I, for example, should never make promises re: delivering at a certain time. You should check out my tumblr, particularly my writing tag, daemoninwhiteround2.tumblr.com/dae-writes for vignettes that will probably never make it to AO3. I also take prompts!
> 
> Happy holidays! I'll see you in 2020!

**Author's Note:**

> fuck ME but I want some special fried rice and pork buns.
> 
> If I can get real for a second, I checked my AO3 stats the other day and this series has combined kudos count of 725. I literally started crying. In my head it has, like, 50, tops. I can’t believe so many people have read this. <strike>Y’all thirsty for the dark stuff, hey?</strike> Realising that, and reading over the amazing comments that everyone left gave me such a boost in productivity. 
> 
> Thank you. Thank you for reading this and kudosing, especially thank you for commenting. If we ever meet in real life, I owe you a soda, OK? 
> 
> Rest of the fic will come soon, AND I MEAN IT THIS TIME. Like, end of the week soon.
> 
> I’m taking prompts over on my blog, daemoninwhiteround2.tumblr.com, so if there’s anything you want to see, please feel free to ask. Anon is on, in case you don’t feel comfortable linking your AO3 acct/internet handle to this … this.


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